roses in the wintertime ✓

but

i was never good at anything.

i couldn't paint things that belonged in museums. i didn't know how to dance in front of a crowd like i could when i was in my old pyjamas at 3 in the morning. i couldn't juggle the ball. but i could shoot guns and hit the target if i was lucky.

my voice would always crack at the high notes and then disappear when i sang too low. i always ruined my nail polish while it was still drying and there was always a curl i couldn't straighten.

if you read my mind, you would see the thoughts i was too shy to voice. my hands would shake when i read in front of the class and my throat would always be too dry to swallow.

i was never good at anything but dear god, when you came along i thought i could finally do some things right.

i couldn't paint, but i could write my art. i still couldn't dance, but i would go wild whenever you messaged me. i was as hopeless as ever when it came to juggling, but i always aimed correctly at all your good parts.

yeah, my voice wasn't perfect, but i could finally scream out of excitement. i practised self acceptance and love, instead of aiming for perfection because i knew either way, you would find me beautiful.

i spoke my mind to you. i read you my thoughts and my poems in a way you would understand. my hands always got clammy when i sent a risky text but at least my breathing was in check.

you gave me gifts no amount of money could've ever bought. you helped me experience things i'm sure i will never get another taste of.

you clutched my hand and put my fingers to your pulse and gave me life.

you broke the barrier i spent my entire life building and left the gaping hole behind you.

thank you, is all i can say
not you're welcome

because despite all the things you taught me to be good at,

i still couldn't love you right.

kylie szenski